


Mistletoe

by AccioInvisibilityCloak



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Christmas, Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioInvisibilityCloak/pseuds/AccioInvisibilityCloak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Whoever heard of kissing in the general vicinity of the mistletoe? There are rules, you know."<br/>"Shall we move closer, then?"<br/>They do.</p><p>Bea and Ben and a little bit of shameless Christmas fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cones_McMurphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cones_McMurphy/gifts).



> I finally beat my writer's block! This ficlet is a thank you and a Christmas present to Ann_Knightley, who wrote me a lovely Bones drabble for Christmas, and who has a fondness for mistletoe kisses. I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas!
> 
>  
> 
> Please do not copy/duplicate this work.

It’s Christmastime. It’s a warm, balmy summer evening, and when they get back from their date, Bea and Ben end up staying out on Bea’s front steps, watching the few visible stars. It reminds Bea of when they were fourteen- the good parts of that summer, talking and bantering and stargazing. It’s nice.

“Wait, what’s that?” Ben is pointing to a cluster of white berries surrounded by green leaves, hanging off the overhang above the porch. It sticks out because the rest of the overhang is trimmed with holly berries, which even in the twilight are clearly bright red.

“Oh, the mistletoe?” Beatrice makes a face. “Hero puts that up every year. She thinks it’s _romantic_.”

“So then, she doesn’t know mistletoe is actually poisonous? All this fuss about the romance and it’s actually just waiting up there to kill you. Kind of poetic, really,” says Ben.

Beatrice rolls her eyes. “Yeah, it would be, if that mistletoe up there was actually poisonous.”

“It is too poisonous! I’ve read about mistletoe, you know-”

“Whatever you read was wrong, then! Mistletoe is _not_ poisonous enough to kill you, and even if it was, that, up there? It’s _plastic_ , Ben,” she laughs.

“…I knew that,” he mutters, but he’s laughing too. “I’m going to look this mistletoe thing up later, because you are definitely wrong.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are- wait, what are we even talking about anymore?”

“About how I’m going to _poison_ you with mistletoe?”

“And here I thought it wasn’t poisonous?”

At this they dissolve into laughter all over again. By the time they calm down, even more stars have come out and evening is spinning quickly into night.

“You know, I’m pretty sure there are some mistletoe rules we’re supposed to be following here. Holiday tradition?” Ben’s eyes, still dancing with laughter, dart from the mistletoe back to her own, and he’s grinning that mischievous, infectious grin of his that she loves.

“It’s a _ridiculous_ tradition,” she says, leaning in close anyway.

And she sinks into his embrace, sighing happily when their lips meet in a soft mistletoe kiss. It’s as wonderful as it always is, kissing him. It still surprises her sometimes, how different they are now from a few months ago, how quickly and completely things have changed. How _happy_ she is- they both are.

When they finally break apart, her eyes find the mistletoe again.

“Ridiculous tradition?” Benedick breathes, his arms still around her.

“That didn’t count.”

“What?”

“The kiss. It didn’t count. We’re like a foot away from the mistletoe!”

“We’re in the general vicinity, though,” he points out, pressing another kiss to her cheek.

“Yeah, but whoever heard of kissing in the _general vicinity_ of the mistletoe? There are rules, you know,” Beatrice teases.

“It _is_ Christmas protocol,” Ben agrees. “Shall we move closer, then?”

They do.

Still wonderful.

Poison or not, Beatrice thinks maybe mistletoe really isn’t so bad after all.


End file.
